After the final collapse of the old, transitory soul
& the resurrection of the void-wind nature's mouth
long after virtues are lost in a swirl of constant fluxing destruction which stabs the longing eyes
Tracing the lines of the invisible, unmistakable force of relation to that which is interpreted through the senses
& which creeps out of unrecalled dreams - the reinforced born-into mistake, set in stone language to seem holy
symbols to feel normal
- yet never seeking solace in instinct
or beaten down for sensing the eternal question
a pluck of the heartstrings to instigate confusion
to investigate breath, to regulate the settling of mercury within the vibrating dome of one single bleeding dollar
- stamped over the heel of Achilles
With good conscience beating the air - to celebrate the holy day that came from somewhere concocted over midnight's back